


The Clash

by deawrites



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Adult Content, Explicit Language, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Non-Explicit Sex, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-20
Updated: 2017-07-20
Packaged: 2018-12-04 11:25:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11554206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deawrites/pseuds/deawrites
Summary: Harvey and Jim can't quit fighting. They are stubborn bastards but what happens when Jim finally gives in?





	The Clash

**Author's Note:**

> All mistakes are my own. You can feel free to point them out so I can fix them though.
> 
> All comments, kudos, criticisms, and suggestions welcome.
> 
> Thank you to my wife, my muse for allowing me regale her with this tale while I was working on it. After reading falsteloj's Chapter 100 in Gordlock Fills series, I knew it was time to bow to the master and leave the sex in this story mostly fade to black.

  **The Clash**

Harvey Bullock was essentially starting over in his career. While he hadn’t been required to put his patrol uniform back on; rue the day that happened; he was taking a moderate move backward. At forty-eight-years-old Harvey wasn’t quite certain how it would feel to go from a captaincy to being a regular detective again. His time in New Orleans Major Crime Unit was over; much of the department purged, and seeking work elsewhere. He had taken the demotion to Sergeant and pay cut. By some miracle Gotham City, Illinois had offered him a position in their Major Crimes Division.  Who was he to say no? Especially since he hadn’t taken an early retirement because it would have resulted in the loss of his pension. Therefore, he had packed up his scanty household and headed north-east.  Making the move in Summer had been the smart way to go, but that was; thus far; the only part of his decision that he was thankful for. Gotham was very different from the relaxed ways of New Orleans, where they worked at a Southern pace. Instead, Gotham was a tightly wound, impatient city where every man was out for himself.

 

Granted the New Orleans MCU had been flawed and smattered with corrupt police detectives, Harvey suspected that Gotham was much the same in that department. At least from what had been inferred to him in his interview the prior month. He was quite confident that due to that moral flexibility fit right in. There was a myriad of ways to make money in Gotham and the majority were illegal, or with a slight bend to the rules. That was what he believed until Harvey Bullock stepped onto the bullpen floor of the GCPD and was introduced to his new partner, detective Jim Gordon.

 

Jim did not smile; his expression was stoic and hand shake firm and short. He had movie star good looks; blond haired and blue eyed, American dream boy; with a five-foot-eight-inch frame and broad chested build.  He kept his hair short and his social interactions shorter. He might have been military at some point in his career, but Harvey sized him up immediately as a hard ass, rule follower and departmental golden example. He quickly learned that he wasn’t far from wrong about that prediction, which ensured that Jim was barely tolerated by his peers. The way they glared at him was nothing short of antagonistic, and Harvey didn’t appreciate the scrutiny he received by his proximity. It was one thing to be the new detective on the unit, but quite another to be instantly hated because of one’s partner assignment. Harvey hadn’t chosen Jim, but he was stuck with the uptight, stick up his ass, superior minded, son of a bitch for now.

 

Ultimately, Jim didn’t appear anymore thrilled with his partner assignment then Harvey was. He could openly see Jim assess him and find him instantly wanting. Maybe it was his age; forty-eight; ethnicity; Irish; his slight tip of the scale towards a chunky middle; his height; five-foot-eleven inches; or perhaps it was because he was from New Orleans. Whatever the rational within Jim’s mind Harvey knew instantly he was not a welcome addition to Jim’s daily routine. Harvey quickly learned that Jim preferred to work alone and resented being saddled with a partner, all be it a _trainee_ from another state. While Harvey had studied a map of Gotham to familiarize himself with the Illinois codes that differed from his home state, streets and lay out of the city, he wasn’t delusional enough to believe that would grant him much of an edge; but at the very least it would demonstrate that he was trying to uphold his duties for the division.  Harvey had been a cop for nearly thirty years and he knew a thing or two about policing; what he didn’t know was how things were conducted in the Major Crimes Unit of the GCPD. That was where he would have to defer to Jim, stickler that he was.

 

Once introductions were over and the two were left alone, Jim was all business. He allowed Harvey a minute to familiarize himself with his desk and a chart of important numbers he would need to refer to until he knew his phone presets by heart, and adjust his chair. Following that he was all about catching Harvey up on their open case load.

 

Harvey interrupted Jim, who was standing alongside of his desk chair. “Do you like coffee Jim?”

 

Surprised by the question Jim blinked. “What? How is _that_ relevant?”

 

“It might not be relevant to this _case_ ,” Harvey informed motioning to the open file folder on the desk. “but it is to social customs. It’s nine in the morning. I just got to work. Typically, people have coffee around that time of the day. I say we get some and **then** review the file.”

 

Jim’s cheek twitched near the right corner of his mouth and his jaw tensed. “Fine.” He issued from behind clenched teeth. “You go to the break room for your _coffee_ and I’ll wait here, and continue to do _our_ **jobs**.”

 

Harvey grinned facetiously and patted Jim’s forearm. “See there, Jim? That’s just good manners.” He pushed the chair back and rose to his feet.  “Sure, I can’t get you any? I’ll have to learn how you take it at some point, you understand.”

 

“I’m not thirsty, thank you.” His tone was tense and his narrowed gaze locked with Harvey’s. They did not like one another.  For the first two weeks of their partnership Jim barely tolerated Harvey, but doggedly brought him up to speed and trained him in just how the GCPD operated; at least from the just and legal stand point. Harvey learned just as much from other members of the squad; these men much more apt to take a bribe then not. What he couldn’t understand was how Jim pushed forward every day seemingly both above and blind to it all; following the rules and ideals of the perfect detective, while around him truth of Gotham City reigned.  The cops were just as corrupt as the criminals and had far less of a code of ethics than the mobster organizations did. Harvey realized that Jim was one man fighting against the current, battered by rocks and other fish headed down stream; and yet every day he continued the fight just as determined to achieve his goals as the day prior.

 

It was the umpteenth time that Jim all but shouted at Harvey, “I don’t know; nor care; how you did things in New Orleans, this is **Gotham**. And _here_ we,” ending in some explanation of true GCPD policy that Harvey snapped. Harvey said something snarky which resulted in Jim’s short fuse snapping completely and the two males ended up in a shoving match, in the bullpen, and in full sight of the other detectives and squad uniforms.  This brought the Captain bellowing forth from his office that they ‘take it outside’ and bets were immediately shouted from one detective to the other as money was thrust into the hands of the resident bookie, Tuttle.  Astonishingly, Jim didn’t shout at anyone to grow up and act professionally, but instead stripped off his suit jacket and threw it over the back of the closest chair. He began rolling up his shirt sleeves and Harvey realized that the younger detective had absolutely reached his breaking point and was baying for his blood.  Harvey’s offensive play was simple, and genuine: He threw his head back and laughed.

 

That was until Jim Gordon punched him with a left hook that left his head ringing. He stumbled back a couple of steps and fell into two other detectives that helped him keep his feet. Once standing on his own, Harvey pointed at Jim and took off his own suit coat and rolled up his own sleeves. The action was to both buy himself time and recall his boxing days and the techniques he had used to win.  This was going to be brutal and he knew that Jim had youth and speed on his side. But he probably didn’t know how to take a punch like Harvey Bullock did; few people could.  The battle challenge was juvenile and unnecessary, but Harvey didn’t feel like talking his way through to a solution. He wanted to dent Jim’s stupidly pretty face with his fists just as badly as Jim obviously wanted to strike him.  The Captain once more ordered the two men to go outside the division floor to settle their differences and this time, Jim and Harvey obeyed. Jim stormed off first and Harvey followed with a group of blood thirsty detectives that were all too willing to grant Harvey advice. He didn’t want it nor need it. Harvey had been in fights before and he was confident that he was going to be able to hold his own at least for a couple of minutes. That would be all he would need to gauge what type of fighter Gordon was along with his strengths and weaknesses. After that? Who knew if youth over experience would pummel Harvey to a pulp; at least he was going to give it a pride filled try.

 

Just outside the motor pool the circle was formed, lines drawn with bets and as if by some unspoken signal the fight began; Jim advancing on Harvey and throwing a second punch that was blocked. Four minutes in, Harvey’s confidence was wavering along with his ability to remain standing unaffected by Jim’s attacks. He was going to lose, but Jim refused to put him out of his misery. Not maliciously but almost as if he were trying to help Bullock keep a great portion of his dignity intact in front of the observers. Why, Harvey couldn’t figure out so instead of trading punches he used a couple of brawling tactics; not very sportsman like to be certain, but he was determined to leave his mark upon Jim’s goddamned face.  Another minute or so of fighting the battle was decided in Jim’s favor. He had Harvey pinned up against the chain link fence, arm twisted behind his back in such a manner that just a little bit more pressure and he would break it catastrophically.

 

“We do things **my** way now, Bullock?” Jim hissed in Harvey’s ear while losing detectives groaned and lamented their lost bets in the background. “Do you yield?” Harvey grunted and Jim pushed him harder against the fence but kept the pressure upon his arm constant. “ **Yield**?”

 

“I fucking yield you little shit!” Harvey spat just loud enough for Jim to hear. Jim stepped back from him and released his arm in one fluid motion. He said nothing to anyone and stormed off. Harvey turned and placed his hands upon his knees panting like he had run a marathon instead of fought a charging bull.  He looked up and watched Jim stalk off wondering why he had been so stupid in the first place to bait Jim as he had. To see how much he could get away with? To make Jim finally snap? No, Harvey had pushed Jim’s buttons simply because he could. He wanted to torment him a little every day like he felt Jim was harassing him with his insufferable personality.  Harvey felt one of the detectives pat him on the back and congratulate him anyway and gratefully waved him away. Slowly Harvey raised up to stand and flinched in anguish. It had been years since he had his ass so soundly kicked, but what did he expect? He had considered that Jim had military service under his belt and he was proved painfully correct. Lesson learned, but he hoped at least Jim was smarting a little.

 

Jim stormed off around to the side alleyway of the station building and placed a hand against the wall and leaned forward, opposite hand reaching towards his left knee. He spat out blood onto the ground and wiped his mouth with his left hand after. He glanced at the residue left behind and wiped it on his suit pants. Luckily, they were a dark color and the blood and spittle wouldn’t show after it dried. He swallowed and grimaced, leaning his shoulder against the building and panting. He was shaking with adrenaline and by no means finished with a physical altercation; he knew he was going to have to go upstairs to the police gym and beat the holy hell out of the punching bag suspended from the ceiling.  He had one at home but he didn’t know if he should take an hour or two off work and escape there verses stand his ground at work. In the end he went up to the gym and let the rumor mill flood the grape vine with whatever gossip his colleagues wished. He wasn’t finished with the fight, but he damn well was finished with Harvey Bullock.

 

Downstairs in the bullpen Harvey slouched at his desk with a Ziploc bag full of ice on his face and a bottle of pain reliever in front of him. Never mind the sip from his flask he took to swallow the pills, that was his dirty little secret. He only had it on him in case of emergencies and rarely used it, but he felt this battle royal consisted of emergency components. Allowing the aspirin and few sips of bourbon to do their jobs, Harvey was beginning to feel a little better. He knew Jim was still in the building but was in no hurry to see him. He did wonder if there were bruises marring his pretty face, but he could wait to gloat over that until later. Right now, he re-read a case file and something jumped out at him; Oleander poisoning.  His excitement mounted as he read the details of the witness statements a bit more carefully and a shiver ran down his spine.

 

Harvey rose from his chair and made his way to the police gym, getting turned around only once. He immediately spotted Jim and ignored the gazes of other police as he walked in, the only one wearing street clothes he was conspicuous. “Gordon!” He called a fair distance from Jim to alert him to his presence. Jim let him call for a second time before he could be bothered to stop what he was doing and still the bag. He glared at Harvey.

 

“What?”

 

Harvey waved the file as if it were a flag of truce. “This case. I’ll need to do some back checking but if this victim is related to the person I think they are, then we know who the killer is.”

 

Jim’s brow furrowed. “Who’s this mystery person?”

 

“Not a mystery.” Harvey said stopping directly in front of Jim. “At least not to me. Oleander poisoning, in smaller doses it can be a long-term process and not very common. These plants wouldn’t grow in Gotham naturally, they’re a Southern climate plant; probably originated in South East Asia but no one’s certain. What we do know is that ingesting just about any part of this plant is toxic. I had a case in N’Orlens where a woman by the name of Nadine Worthington a.k.a. Madame Breaux. She was running a scam of her relatives making them sick so they’d sign over their life insurance policies to her and then she’d murder them. She left state six months ago under the radar and could be at it again.”

 

Jim rested his hands upon his hips. “It’s a stretch, but worth researching a family connection.”

 

Harvey nodded. “I thought so too. Meet you downstairs? I can have a buddy of mine E-mail the particulars of the old case. Worth a look see.”

 

Jim nodded once and hooked a thumb over his shoulder in indication of the locker room. “I’ll meet you back downstairs.”

 

Harvey patted Jim’s bicep with the folder. “Don’t forget to shower.” He grinned and retreated from the gym before his forced partner could become annoyed with him. Little doses of one another’s company were perhaps the answer for now, but they would have to reach an understanding at some point.

 

Jim showered quickly allowing the hot water to ease some of the tension and pain from his muscles. The possibility that Harvey was right about his suspicions swirled within Jim’s mind. Having an adversarial relationship with the man or not, the job came first and a lead was indeed a lead. If Harvey was wrong, no harm no foul; at least the man was interested in due diligence of police work. No matter how much he hated the man personally, professionally people who did their jobs well garnered Jim’s respect.  He toweled off quickly, his hair still damp at the edges, he re-dressed in his suit. Returning downstairs, he walked straight over to his and Harvey’s desks where Harvey sat waiting for him. Harvey wordlessly held out the faxed pages to Jim who took them and read through them quickly, his frown more pronounced the longer he read.

 

“Since these plants don’t grow in colder climates, you think she harvested some to bring with her? Dried them maybe?”

 

“It’s not like landscaping companies in the state would work with them. They’d have to be special ordered through florists or some such, but you already checked that avenue. No one’s purchased Oleander so I think you’re right. She somehow brought a supply with her.”

 

Jim logged on to his computer. “Let’s shake the family tree a little bit and see where the branches reach too.”

 

Harvey picked up his reading glasses from the desk and put them on his head before moving around to stand beside Jim. “Now you’re talking.”

 

While they found no connection electronically between the victim and Madame Breaux, they elected to re-interview a female witness and show her a picture of the woman of interest and Madame Breaux was recognized. The witness told them that Madame Breaux was a family adopted Aunt of one of the victim’s blood relatives. The woman further gave them an address of where Madame Breaux was living in Gotham. Jim and Harvey requested a warrant for the premises and her arrest, and by the late afternoon Nadine “Madame Breaux” Worthington was in custody for murder.

 

Harvey felt a sense of accomplishment and that perhaps Jim could be a good cop even if he was a lousy partner. The anger and frustration from the morning battle had burned away and Harvey was almost feeling hopeful about their future as partners until Jim opened his big, stupid, mouth and brought everything all crashing down.

 

“Good work, but we’ve got at least ten other cases we need to close; and I doubt you’ll have as easy of a time as this one.”  Harvey wanted to punch him all over again. He grunted and Jim looked up from his computer screen at him. “What?”

 

“Can’t even enjoy the afterglow, can you? Gotta charge right on to putting your clothes on and going home. Holy Saints Jim; is there anything you _enjoy_ in life?”

 

Jim frowned. “You’re objecting to the fact that I want to do my **job** instead of sitting around patting myself on the back for something that should have been closed from day one of your orientation here?” Jim shook his head. “That’s just a waste of energy. Pick up the Smithers file and let’s see if we can drum up a lead there.”

 

Harvey looked from the short stack of files on his desk to Jim once more. “You’re a piece of work, you know that Gordon? It’s no surprise you’re single.”

 

“Well, I’m not looking to date _you_. We’re fortunate there.”

 

Harvey glared at Jim. He hated his partner and couldn’t wait to prove himself to the Captain so he could request a new posting.

~~~~~~~~~

Another few weeks went by and Jim and Harvey managed not to kill one another. They were sniping at one another constantly and had nearly come to blows again upon two separate occasions, fortunately both were outside of the GCPD building and from under the watchful eye of their shift commander.  The only thing that was improving was at the rate they closed their cases.  In that arena; regardless of how lackadaisical Jim accused Harvey of being; they complemented one another’s strengths and weaknesses. Harvey got Jim to slow down long enough to appreciate the nuances and details before acting sometimes, while Jim remained doggedly focused on the entirety of the picture and motivated Harvey to solider forward.

 

The Captain refused Harvey’s request for a transfer, then went and had himself a catastrophic heart attack that ended his career. His replacement was Sarah Enssen, and while she was no friend to her predecessor she also refused Harvey’s request of a new partner and Jim’s pronouncements that he worked better alone. The metrics data of their closing rate didn’t lie and she saw no reason to break up the pairing. They were her best detectives on the squad and needed to ‘nut up’ and learn how to work together or she would discipline them both. Harvey couldn’t fault himself; nor Jim; for trying to buck the status quo and ask for reassignments. Begrudgingly their partnership continued and at work the two were as professional as they could force themselves to be. Outside of work the two never mingled and kept a blissful distance from one another’s lives.

 

That was until three-thirty-one morning when Jim was called down to the 75th precinct where Harvey was sobering up in a holding cell with two of his friends currently visiting him in Gotham. The three had gotten piss assed drunk and one of the visitors had caused a bar room brawl. Out of courtesy the arresting Uniformed Officers had contacted Harvey’s partner to come and bail him out.  By the time Jim arrived at the precinct Harvey was sobering up enough to appreciate the horror of his current situation.  He looked up at Jim, hair in his face and flashed him a sheepish smile.

 

“Thanks partner.” He mused not certain if Jim were going to bail him out but rather leave him to continue to sober up until morning.  Jim said nothing in return and merely stepped back as a Uniformed Officer unlocked the cell and permitted Harvey to exit. “I’ll pay you back every cent- “

 

“I paid nothing.” Jim informed low enough for only Harvey to hear as the Uniformed Officer returned to his post. “Just pulled in a favor.” He glanced at the two friends from New Orleans and back to Harvey’s gaze. “You can bail them out.” He turned to leave.

 

“Jim!” Harvey called sharply. The younger detective stopped and took several seconds before he pivoted back around to face his partner. Harvey crossed the distance between them and pushed his hair away from his face with a hand. “I meant it. Thank you.”

 

Jim’s jaw set and he hissed, “Just stay sober off duty from now on.” He turned away once more and stalked off. Harvey glanced from him to his friends.

 

“Quit laughing, O’Rourke.” Harvey snapped quite serious as the two men chuckled. “You’ll both owe me for bail.” They called after Harvey as he moved to the desk Officer’s window to make the payment to rescue his friends. It was going to be a long night and even longer day once he made it to work. He couldn’t call in sick; hungover; now even if he wanted too. Jim was angry and in this one instance Harvey couldn’t blame him. He had to use a valuable favor just to help Harvey, a man he disliked greatly. If roles had been reversed Harvey wouldn’t be pleased on iota either.

 

Hours later Harvey’s hair was still damp from the shower and combed back from his ears and forehead, his suit was clean and pressed, and he arrived on time to the precinct to find Jim already at his desk. This in and of itself was not unusual but Jim didn’t even look up at Harvey when he pulled out his chair to sit down.

 

“You’re here.” Jim announced as if criticizing him somehow.

“Why wouldn’t I be? I’m on shift.” This garnered Harvey more silence as Jim continued to look from his notes to the report he was typing up on the computer screen. “I’m off to get coffee. Would you- “

 

“No thank you.” Jim interrupted predicting Harvey’s inquiry.

 

Harvey frowned. “I was going to ask you if you’d care to _fuck off_ but I guess it’s a little too early in the morning not to be civil wouldn’t you say, Jim?” Finally, Jim looked at him, his gaze only narrowed the slightest bit.

 

“No, thank you.” Jim repeated before returning to his typing once more.

 

Harvey shook his head unable to believe that the man couldn’t even be receptive to the slightest bit of sincere appreciation upon Harvey’s part. Disgusted, he exited the bullpen and headed for the break room and coffee maker. Regardless he needed coffee and if Jim wanted to be an asshole all day it was his prerogative. God knew that they weren’t friends but still; after the previous bail out Harvey knew he owed Jim some gratitude.  By the time he got back to the desk with his mug, Jim had already finished his report, printed it and was turning it in to their Capitan for signature approval. Harvey was behind on his paper work, but knew that he could catch up by the end of the day; at least, he hoped so. He didn’t think he’d be able to stick around long after his shift nursing exhaustion from his hangover as he was.

 

The two spent the day in relative silence as they followed up on leads and worked through reports. They parted company at lunch break and when they reconvened it was by chance in the men’s room at the station house. Jim was finishing up at a urinal and Harvey had headed straight towards one of the sinks to wash his hands and splash water on his face. Raising his head from his hands Harvey caught Jim’s reflection in the mirror. He was about to say something moderately congenial to him then changed his mind when Jim turned around and glanced at him. His expression wasn’t pleased in the least and Harvey shook his head giving up. He didn’t have the energy today to even snipe out something caustic in rebuttal.  Jim took the sink on the end, one away from Harvey to wash his own hands, steadfastly not looking at his partner.

 

“We going to go on like this until we’re granted transfers by Enssen?” Harvey wasn’t certain why he had blurted the question but now he was committed to standing by his admission.  “Because the silent treatment? Isn’t going to help us in the long run.”

 

“Don’t take it so personally Bullock.” Jim advised reaching for paper towels and offering some to Harvey. The older detective snatched them from his hand and began using them. “I just don’t have a lot to say to you. Even about the case.” He shrugged and dried his own hands before crumpling up the towels and tossing them into the garbage bin. Jim rested his hands upon his hips. “No offense.”

 

“Yes, I’m sure.” Harvey’s tone dripped in sarcasm. “Look it, I know you don’t like me. And I know last night you had to save my ass against your will. I just want you to know I appreciate that- “

 

“I had ulterior motives that had **nothing** to do with you, Bullock.” Jim interrupted sharply. They both knew they were alone with one another in the bathroom so Jim didn’t censor himself. “I was looking out for my own career, plain and simple. You’re welcome, but nothing more needs to be said.”

 

“By _you_.”

 

“By **anyone**.” Jim warned hostilely.

 

“You’re a real asshole.” Harvey muttered upon shaking his head. “Goddamn Gordon but I’m surprised no one’s put a bullet in your back yet.”

 

“And I’m certain you’ll be near the head of that line, won’t you?” Jim challenged bitterly. “We have to work together but there’s no policy that says we have to like one another. Therefore, I just want to do my job and deal with you as little as possible. Understand?”

 

Jim had taken a step forward into Harvey’s personal space as he talked and Harvey now did the same. He glared into Jim’s barely contained fury. “Perfectly.” They stood their ground for several seconds and Harvey; being closer to the door; had to move a little closer as someone entered the room. Both partners disengaged and Jim barreled past Harvey to exit first, Harvey wishing he could punch him in the face as he passed. In the end, they both ended back at their desks and worked the rest of their shift in silence.  By the time they separated for the evening Harvey was ready for another few drinks just too dull the anger rippling through his body every time he happened to catch a glance of Jim Gordon. He wondered just how long it would be before the two of them reached saturation and would engage in another shoving match, or come to fisticuffs.

 

Jim was strong, agile and a hyper focused fighter. He was not someone that Harvey wanted to face in the boxing ring or as an opponent in any situation. However, he was compelled to bait the man and push his buttons until they were driven to physical blows. It was immature, insane and achieved nothing but Harvey couldn’t stop himself. As for Jim, he recognized that the man walked around with thinly veiled anger and was just one derogatory challenge away from pummeling anyone’s face that crossed his path. Such deep seeded fury was a symptom of severe neurosis and should have Harvey running for the hills to avoid him. Yet fate was not on his side and had thrown them toxically together.  While he hated Jim he strangely respected his ability to kick his own ass with as much shocking savagery as he had Harvey’s.

 

Once home, Jim changed into his work out clothing and ran a few miles. Upon returning to his apartment he spent the next hour pounding the hell out of the hanging punching bag with his fists and legs for good measure.  He couldn’t get Harvey out of his mind; the audacity of the older man to be arrested for drunk and disorderly conduct when he was a new hire to the GCPD.  The fact that Harvey was morally bankrupt at times hadn’t escaped Jim’s notice and it infuriated him. Harvey Bullock had the potential to be a great detective, but he was more focused on indulging in his vices then bringing any professionalism to their case load.  Jim was miffed that he had wasted a favor on having the charges suppressed against Harvey, and promised himself that next time he wouldn’t save his partner’s reputation.  Harvey was a grown ass man and had to take responsibility for his actions. Jim was finished even pretending to be civil to the man privately; however publicly he would grant him the same professional courtesy that he expected in return.

 

Thoughts churning Jim ceased his physical activities, showered, dressed in casual clothes and headed out to find something to eat. He didn’t want to eat alone in the silence of his apartment. All he seemed to do lately was seethe in bitter anger when he was alone, and tonight he wanted to do something different. Tonight, he just wanted to try and relax, not think about Harvey and get some much-needed rest. He was just tucking into some well-deserved vegetables and noodles when he heard the unmistakable boisterous laughter of Harvey Bullock a few tables away. Internally Jim cringed, and took a deep breath to center himself. He could be wrong, but he doubted it. Swiveling his head from his window seat into the interior of the Asian restaurant he saw a table set for six; Harvey, his two friends, and a lady companion for each male. It was more than obvious who was with whom and it genuinely surprised Jim that Harvey’s woman had a bit of a hefty figure. He had never considered before what type of woman Harvey would be attracted too, yet for some reason he was taken aback. Jim was about to look away when abruptly Harvey’s gaze met his from across the room. Recognition flashed between them and Jim blushed a little in embarrassment. Jim turned his head quickly and returned to his meal pointedly ignoring any further merriment from the other table. That was until Harvey sat down in the booth directly across the table surface from him. Ever one to pick at a scab until it bled, Harvey had excused himself from his company and crossed the building to Jim.

 

“Care to join us?” Even though Jim was hesitant to make eye contact Harvey was staring at him dead on.

 

“No, I don’t think so. Thanks.”

 

“Never pegged you as a coward.” This garnered Harvey Jim’s immediate attention and eye contact. “There we go. Now that’s the pissed off Gordon I know.”

 

“And loathe.” Jim sniped.

 

“You’re the one that declared that we didn’t have to like one another.” Harvey held his hands apart on the table top in indication. “I was willing to give you a chance. You’re not a bad cop Jim. And I don’t believe all the gossip I hear about you from the rest of the floor.”

 

“But you believe enough.” Jim growled his gaze narrowing.  “Do you think I honestly believe that you’re inviting me over to your table out of the goodness of your heart? I know a trap when I see one, Bullock.”

 

Harvey leaned a little towards Jim across the table. “Maybe you’re wrong, Gordon. Ever think that you could make a mistake once in a while?”

 

“Errors in judgement but not in this particular case.” Jim defended

 

Harvey sighed and sat back in defeat. “It’s an invitation to sit with a group of people and regale the women folk with tales of law enforcement. It’s not a spring-loaded trap or offered out of malice. You’ll believe what you want, but my conscience is clear: I mean this in the spirit of brothers in arms.” He shrugged. “We’re over there if you change your mind; still there even if you don’t.” With that Harvey rose from the booth and returned to his table, Jim watching him walk away.

 

Following five minutes of silent deliberation, Jim pulled up a seventh chair and sat down at the boisterous table with his food in hand. Harvey smiled at him and gave a welcoming nod from the opposite end of the gathering. He introduced Jim to his buddies from Louisiana and Jim gave them both quick handshakes. The women didn’t shake, but introductions passed between them next. It was clear to him now that the women were prostitutes and he discretely elected to not to dwell on the subject and treat them and the men like this was a normal triple date for six friends. Why Harvey chose to employ a prostitute remained a mystery to Jim; one he sought not to pursue; for the only context in which it made sense to him, was that Harvey was indeed new to Gotham and hadn’t had much time to meet a woman to date regularly. Or perhaps he was a kinky bastard that liked a bit of rough trade in his sex.

 

Harvey; true to his word; did not snipe once at Jim or attempt to bait him into an argument. When one of his friends challenged him, Harvey quickly squashed that scenario into ashes with a stern reminder of the rules of Southern Hospitality. Jim received a glance of apology for his troubles and nothing more was even hinted at that was the least derogatory within his direction.  Reluctant at first, Jim began to relax by degrees even though he didn’t completely let his guard down. He found himself enjoying the conversation and being part of it rather than seated alone at his own table.  The food tasted better, time passed faster and soon the staff was ushering their table out so they could close for the night. Jim had never closed a venue before and when Harvey hunted him down at the final farewells, and he wondered if the older detective held an expectation of profound change in their relationship. He needn’t have worried as Harvey placed a hand upon his shoulder, leaned in toward his ear and whispered, “See Jim m’boy? No traps. Just people.” He patted Jim’s shoulder and withdrew quickly rejoining his woman and his friends.

 

Jim watched them walk away before turning in the opposite direction to head back to his solitary apartment. An evening that had begun with deep routed frustration had manifested into something pleasant. Jim wondered how long the truce of sorts would last; predicting it most likely washed away by the following morning. While Harvey didn’t issue a friendly greeting when he walked onto the bullpen floor, he did grant Jim a nod of acknowledgement before leaving for the break room and his coffee. Their usual pattern of silence prevailed but in the field, it seemed a little less snarky, Jim actually making an effort. Perhaps Harvey Bullock wasn’t so bad.

 

That was his summation until Jim witnessed him taking a bribe from a Uniformed Officer. The casual display had set Jim’s teeth on edge and while they were just an hour into their shift, Jim couldn’t go another second without confronting Harvey about it. They were on their way to the motor pool when Jim abruptly seized Harvey by the arm and dragged him around the side of the building away from the gasoline pumps.

 

“What in the hell was that about back there, Bullock?” Jim demanded through clenched teeth. Harvey opened his mouth to ask a question and Jim cut him off immediately. “I _saw_ you. I saw you take that money from Chaskinski. What was it for, huh? Your cut of the week? For the alleged widows and orphans fund? Arms? Drugs from evidence? You think I haven’t seen you skulking around the dirty cops in this building? Think I don’t know that you took a little on the side back in, ‘ _N’Orlen_ s’?” Jim mocked quoting Harvey’s slight accent. “ **I** know. **I** see. And it stops right-the-fuck **now**!”

 

“Christ in heaven, Gordon.” Harvey challenged yanking himself free of Jim’s grip. He shoved the younger detective back a step from him. “My previous job has nothing to do with what I’m doing in Gotham. I didn’t take bribes, they were gifts- “

 

“It’s the same thing!” Jim spat doing his best to refrain from punching Harvey dead in the face.

 

“Fine!” Harvey shouted back at him. “I did it, I’m guilty; call in I.A.D. and give me a slap on the wrist because those guys are dirtiest of all!”  Jim advanced on Harvey, who put his hands up and held Jim back at the touch. “I did it for **you** Jim! This time I only did it for _you_.” Harvey reasoned gripping one hand around the lapel of Jim’s suit coat and pressing a flattened palm to his chest over his heart with the other.

 

Shock and fury mingled upon Jim’s features, sharp and caustic. “ **That’s** how you’re going to justify this? You took a bribe because I _don’t_?”

 

“No!” Harvey reasoned seeking to calm Jim’s outburst slightly. He lowered the volume of his voice to make certain their exchange remained private. “I did a favor for a couple of guys in our division. Greased the wheels. Took the money I got from it to buy favors for **you**.” Jim shook his head completely floored by what he was hearing. “I meant it when I said I was grateful for you bailing me out the night from holding. And I didn’t like that you had to use a favor, so I’m replacing it. Whatever you need, whenever you need it, they have to have your back and that’s it. One shot deal, but it’s real, and binding.” Harvey patted Jim’s chest with his palm. “And yes; it stops now: No more pies from the window sills; I’m strictly by the book like you are. Okay Jim?”

 

Jim seized Harvey by the lapels of his suit jacket and spun him, throwing his back against the concrete bricks that comprised the base of the building.  “Kill the deal, give the money and whatever else you took back and don’t ever do anything in my name again. You understand me, Bullock? I. am. **Done**. With _you_.” He hissed out from behind clenched teeth knowing that if Harvey was in his hands too long he was going to snap. Jim pushed away from him hard and pointed at him. “I don’t give a shit what you tell Enssen, you just get transferred to another division **now**!” Jim swallowed a shout of frustration and stormed off in the direction of the employee parking lot. He was beyond enraged and knew he could no longer think rationally. He had to get away, from Harvey, from the precinct, from people. He loathed the entire human race to his core and recognized in his red hazed anger that he was a danger to others. Thankfully Harvey didn’t call after him; didn’t say another word and just let him storm away.

 

Harvey leaned against the wall and straightened his rumpled clothing. What in the hell was he supposed to do now? Aside from disregard reversing the favor trail back to its base knot? That was a finalized contract and it was not about to be overturned. What to tell Enssen was another issue entirely. He didn’t have seniority or working contacts in other divisions to fall back upon regarding a transfer. Initially he hadn’t cared upon first meeting Jim, however now that he knew the man better Harvey wanted to ensure that wherever he went he would be happy. Because fuck Jim and fuck his goddamned, suck fest of an attitude. No wonder it had cost so dearly to get a favor set in place for him; it explained why so many people hated him on the force. He was a self-righteous prick and deserved every beating he ever had coming. If Harvey was fifteen years younger he would first in line to punch Jim in his smug face. Yet he wasn’t, Jim was throwing a fit, and it would truly be the best for both if they no longer were partnered.

 

Enssen remained in objection to such a shift and verbally threw Harvey out of her office for even re-suggesting it.  Defeated, Harvey returned to his desk and picked up a phone message from a possible witness he and Jim needed to follow up with. Not knowing; nor caring; where his partner was Harvey elected to interview the person by himself. Perhaps Jim would come back to the office later that afternoon, perhaps not; either way Harvey wasn’t about to sit on his ass all day brooding about it. That was; after all; Jim’s gig not his own.

 

Jim didn’t return for three hours and when he did, he was curt, withdrawn, and uninterested in anything that didn’t pertain to the job. He barely said two words to Harvey and when their shift ended he was making phone calls and unavailable to acknowledge that Harvey was leaving for the day.  In self-defense Harvey left his report about the potential witness interview taped to Jim’s locker and went home. He had already submitted the original into the file so there was nothing lost if Jim tore it down and threw it away. Jim worked the hours he missed at his desk and found Harvey’s little ‘love note’ and read it. He rolled his eyes and thought about how this was too little too late and passed by their desks on the way out to leave the copy on Harvey’s desk surface. He was exhausted from the day and not having an adequate outlet for his anger. He was tired of being saddled with a partner he neither wanted nor could stand; he was tired of trying hard to be a good cop when around him everyone else was taking bribes and bending the rules left and right. Most of all he was just tired of trying anymore.

 

Jim took the stairs down instead of the elevator, and when he exited the building he failed to notice Harvey parked across the street down from the employee parking lot waiting. Towards the end of his drive home, he noticed he was being followed and lost the tail casually in heavy traffic.  Once home he showered and put on comfortable jeans and a tee shirt. He was just contemplating dinner when there was a persistent knock upon his apartment door.  Jim was only partially surprised when he opened the door to find Harvey standing on the opposite side. Battle lines drawn that’s where Harvey would remain both figuratively and factually.

 

Jim’s jaw tensed, anger rising in him all over again. As if it had ever truly abated. Jim was angry all the time, he knew this; but seeing Harvey now didn’t help him ease out of the headspace.  “What?” More of a demand then a question but spoken low and gruff.

 

“I talked to Enssen. She’s not going to budge on the transfer request. I think you should talk to her; maybe coming from you it will make more of a difference.” Doubtful; but Harvey had to attempt to get Jim’s input.

 

Jim nodded and stared at Harvey in their customary silence for thirty seconds. “That it?”

 

“Did you look at the witness statement I left for you?”

 

“Yes.” More silence.

 

Harvey’s left eye twitched and annoyance shaped his features. “I know that you’re adverse to the pay offs. I get that. But what I **don’t** get is why else you have a stick up your ass about me. From day one all I ever did was try to be courteous to you. Remember that? So, what the fuck did I do?”

 

Jim’s teeth ground together. “Shouldn’t you being **dirty** be _enough_?” Jim asked through clenched teeth.

 

Harvey grunted in consideration. “I guess that’s it then. All there is.” He nodded a few times and looked down the hallway before shifting his full attention back to Jim. “You’re a solid cop, Jim Gordon; but you’re a fucking awful human being.”

 

By Jim’s expression it was clear that Harvey’s assessment didn’t concern him one iota. Jim said nothing in response and closed his front door, walked back to his kitchen to make himself something to eat as he was prior to being interrupted by Harvey’s visit.  It wasn’t until he was finished eating and was near the end of washing the dishes that Harvey’s assessment came back to taunt him _, ‘you’re a fucking awful human being’_. Jim squeezed the utensils in his hand before throwing them hard into the bottom of the skin where they clattered and broke a drinking glass. Jim hit the counter ledge with his fists and managed to mute a scream of frustration. He pushed himself away from the sink and walked away, aimless and furious.

 

He hated Harvey, yet loathed even more that he couldn’t get the older detective out of his mind. _Ever_ , it seemed. Jim strode into his bedroom and grabbed his cell phone off its charger. He scrolled through his work numbers until he settled on Bullock’s. He hit the call button before he could change his mind and his chest began heaving as his breathing sped up in fury and anticipation.  Harvey picked up on the third ring and Jim barked, “Where are you right now?” He didn’t give Harvey a chance to answer. “I need you to come over to my place, _right_ **now**. Do you remember where it is?”

 

“My memory serves. I can be there in twenty minutes.”

 

“Good.” Jim severed the call and tossed his phone back onto the nightstand where the charger was. He glared at it then changed his mind and shoved it into one of his front jean’s pockets. He exited the bedroom and returned to the living area to pace and wait for Harvey. He would occasionally give the hanging punching bag a quick jab or two as he passed by, grunting in mounting fury.  The more wound up he became the faster his heart raced in his chest. By the time Harvey pounded on the front door, Jim was nearly bursting out of his own skin with anxiety.

 

Harvey drank in Jim’s agitation and immediately questioned his bad life choices; this currently being number one on the list.  He should not have come here, Jim looked like he was prepared to rip Harvey’s face off with his bare hands. Instead Jim stepped back from the door frame and motioned for Harvey to come in. Harvey hesitated but in the end entered the belly of the beast and watched Jim close and lock the door. “So, what’s all this about Jim?” He was used to Jim running hot and cold on communicating with him, but he had been honestly hoping that Jim would put some of his questions finally to rest. “You gonna hit me? Or kiss me?”  Harvey’s joke and smile faded as Jim looked up at him with the rawest vulnerability he had ever seen in another person in his entire life.

 

Jim’s stomach dropped to the floor, tears burned behind his begging eyes and he moved swiftly, managing to explode forward and seize a hold of Harvey, knocking the older man back into the wall, to the left of the door. This time one hand closed in Harvey’s suit jacket but the other touched his face, blue eyes enraptured by his movements to stroke Harvey’s cheek, his beard, down to his lips.  “ _Please_.” Was all he said before he surged up and his mouth was upon Harvey’s.

 

For the briefest of time Harvey fought against him, but abruptly surrendered to the kiss and opened his mouth to Jim’s tongue. Jim began pawing at Harvey, pulling at his clothes and managed to strip him of his jacket, tie, and work shirt. This left Harvey wearing his undershirt and trousers, one of which was rucked upward while Jim stroked and raked at freckled flesh with his hands. As for the trousers, they were open but Jim had yet to delve into them or cup Harvey outside of them. Right now, his hands were busy touching Harvey’s chest and manipulating his nipples as they continued to kiss.  One of Jim’s hands wandered from Harvey’s chest to wrap in his hair instead, tugging harshly down so Harvey couldn’t break their kisses easily; not that he wanted too. Currently kissing Jim; being touched by him; was akin to fighting for his life. The adrenaline flow and thrill of danger just the same as staring down the barrel of a gun in a criminal’s hand.

 

“Mmph, bedroom?” Harvey managed to blurt out before Jim was devouring him again.

 

Jim rubbed himself against Harvey, grabbed one of his hands in his own, and began to back away. Harvey followed, doing everything he could to keep their bodies pressed together. If he strayed too far the scrape of nails on the nape of his neck and pulling of his hair reminded him to keep up. Once in the bedroom Jim was even more overwhelming to Harvey’s senses. The younger man pushed him down hard upon the bed and in a near frenetic frenzy he stripped them both of clothes, leaving them in a heap on the floor. Next Jim pressed his naked body down along Harvey’s, moaning at the sensation before he was demanding once again; pulling, tasting, taking, controlling everything that passed between them. It was all Harvey could do but hold on to Jim and attempt to give as good as he got. Especially when Jim’s nipping at his flesh increased in tension, his hands gripping now more than caressing, and movements rough.

 

Jim wanted to consume, own, dominate Harvey and when the older man started responding, struggling against him, Jim’s aggression level ratcheted up a bit more, until Harvey quit fighting so much. He kept moving, working to overwhelm Harvey with too many sensations so he couldn’t think anymore and was just forced to be. That’s what Jim wanted for himself; to be; and right now, he was domineering and needy.  It felt like it had been forever ago that he had a sexual partner; certainly not one that could keep up with his demands on them. Harvey however hadn’t stopped Jim yet and it didn’t appear that he was going to either. Not because he was a weak opponent, but because he was a fortified one. His fighting skills weeks ago in the impromptu school yard, motor pool match had what had first ignited Jim’s desire for the older male. It wasn’t his technique or knowledge, but rather the fact that the man could take a punch and remain on his feet. Harvey didn’t surrender and he stood his ground no matter what Jim thought about throwing at him. Granted Jim hadn’t let himself completely go and attempt to kill Harvey, but he had punished him enough that he wanted the man to remain standing; to prove to the other cops that he was more capable then they first judged him. Controlling himself had been Jim’s gift to Harvey and now the gloves were off and Jim was taking what he wanted; everything that Harvey could grant him.

 

In the end neither of them would be standing, and that was what Jim was counting on.

 

Harvey gasped for air as Jim severed their barrage of kisses and reached between them for Harvey’s cock. At first, he was worried that Jim’s hand would be too harsh on the sensitive flesh, but after two strokes of his full-length Jim’s hand stopped and he grinned feraly at Harvey.  “Do you get rug burn on this when you walk around naked?”

 

Shocked, Harvey blinked at Jim, his hands moving to the younger detective’s hips. “Is, is that a joke, Jim Gordon?”

 

Jim’s smile widened just a bit. “Maybe.” He breathed, gaze flooded with desire and stroked his hand a few more times upon Harvey’s cock before he disengaged from him long enough to re-position his body further down the bed.  Harvey’s head fell back and he moaned loudly the moment Jim’s mouth replaced the previous movement of his hand.

 

The next two hours were nothing short of explosive sex, Harvey doing things he hadn’t done in years, let alone with such intensity. Jim was all consuming and while Harvey sought to give as good as he got, he did have a decade; and more; on the younger male. What he might lack in vigor he made up for well in technique and ideas to bring to Jim’s, _hate sex_ party. Neither one of them could deny that was exactly what they were engaged in. Nothing had changed between the two; nor would; as far as Harvey gauged. Jim would still despise him for his past mistakes and he would still want to pop the self-righteous bastard in the smug, plush, mouth.  When it was over Harvey rolled off Jim and lay upon his back, panting, covered in perspiration and shaking from the emotional and physical exertion he had just undergone. He wondered when Jim was going to throw him out of his apartment.

 

Jim lay upon his stomach just as wrecked as Harvey. At the very least Jim knew that Harvey would still be feeling him inside of him the next day, just as surely as Jim was now experiencing phantom sensations from Harvey’s fucking. Jim stared at Harvey’s profile and resisted the urge to reach over and touch him. He was feeling far calmer now and just wanted to enjoy the moment. He recalled Harvey once teasing him about ignoring the afterglow, and considered that in this literal situation it wouldn’t qualify. Jim was indeed relishing and basking in the moment.  A few seconds later he reached over with his arm and rested his hand upon Harvey’s chest.

 

“Stay the night.” Jim ordered almost sounding a bit gentle with his demand.

 

Harvey looked over at him. “And endure an awkward morning? I don’t think so, Gordon.”

 

“ **Jim**.” Jim corrected and continued to hold eye contact with Harvey. “Stay. It’ll be worth your while.”

 

“Fine.” Harvey surrendered looking back at the ceiling and closing his eyes. “Just don’t change your mind half way through, or at the end.”

 

“Done.” Jim assured closing his own eyes.


End file.
